


Of Belonging

by Rina_san28



Series: Overwatch Fluff Fest [5]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Established Relationship, Forgiveness, Kinda, M/M, Meet-Cute, Multi, Other, Overwatch Family, Pre-Recall, at least to start
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-29 08:23:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18774883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rina_san28/pseuds/Rina_san28
Summary: Hanzo had done many things wrong in his life. The wrong, it seemed, vastly outnumbered the good. But everything changed, of course, with a sparrow.orHanzo slowly learns again to love and be loved, with a little bit of unasked-for assistance.





	1. Of Forgiving

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Surprise! I'm back! 
> 
> I've been cracking on this for a while now, but I didn't want to post it until I was mostly done. I'll get the other two parts posted, hopefully, over the next few days. 
> 
> Timeline-wise, this starts directly after the Dragons animated short. 
> 
> Enjoy!

The first thing Hanzo did once the stranger – no, _Genji_ – left was leap to the next rooftop, the one he had vanished from, and carefully stow away the sparrow feather he’d left behind. It wasn’t that he didn’t already have a feather – he collected that once he completed his offering – but the new one felt…different. Sacred.

 

He slipped through the streets of Hanamura, mixing easily with the locals on their morning commutes. It took almost no time at all before he was on a train to Itō. Enjoying the slightly-less-crowded-than-normal ride, he selected a seat in the back corner and allowed his mind to drift.

 

Ten years. Ten years since the clan elders had forced him to kill Genji, going so far as to place threat on their mother’s relatives. Ten years since he had to weigh the life of his only and beloved sibling against their loving aunts and uncles and adoring cousins. Ten years since he bloodied his hands so thoroughly the stains could never be washed away.

 

Ten years and one day since he had last felt relief.

 

A part of him deep, deep inside, had desperately wanted to reach out to Genji. Clasp the hand that touched his shoulder, remove the visor and look once more into the eyes of the brother he thought he’d lost forever…but on the whole he knew that he didn’t deserve it.

 

_“I have accepted what I am, and I have forgiven you. Now you must forgive yourself.”_

 

A fool, Hanzo had called him. There were some stories that could not have happy endings, some crimes for which there was no forgiveness. The image of his brother’s broken body was seared permanently into his memory. It haunted his dreams and poisoned his thoughts. He could not remember the last time he’d slept through the night without collapsing in exhaustion. ( _Probably ten years ago,_ said a voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like his mother. _You should work on that._ )

 

_“Perhaps I am a fool, to think there is still hope for you.”_

 

 _Yes, brother,_ he thought bitterly, watching out the window as skyscrapers and pavement became trees and rolling fields, _perhaps you are._

 

\-----

 

Itō, while not small by any stretch of the word, was worlds away from the hustle and bustle of Tokyo. It laid comfortably in the shadow of Omuro, with the city itself splayed along the coast. Hanzo enjoyed the pace there, and found himself lying low there fairly frequently. After such a stressful night, he was far from surprised to find his feet leading him into town. The buildings were simple and small, modern but not extravagant. People strolled or biked casually down the sidewalks, and children bounced along as they enjoyed the freedom of the weekend.

 

A pastry shop window caught his eye and his stomach growled in the sudden realization that he hadn’t eaten in nearly twelve hours. He dithered for a moment, but upon being unable to come up with a good reason to deny himself a treat, he entered.

 

“ _Ohayou_!” the elderly woman behind the counter greeted. “ _Watashi wa anata no tame ni nani ga te ni hairimasu ka_?”

 

Hanzo scanned the case and felt a flash of delight at one item in the corner. “ _Sono Chi no 3tsu kudasai_.” The woman nodded and rung him up, passing over the small bag of kusa mochi with a smile and a farewell.

 

He went to the waterfront and sat on the rocks, watching the slow roll of the waves. The spring air had a bite to it, the wind sharp with proximity to the water, but he ignored it in favor of his breakfast. The first two were gone far sooner than he would’ve wished, but he restrained himself and tucked the third in the breast pocket of his coat for later.

 

_“The world is changing once again, Hanzo, and it’s time to pick a side.”_

 

Hanzo scoffed slightly at the remembered words. An idiot could have seen the change of the tides. Omniums in Russia were reactivating, gangs were rising again in the Americas, a giant omnic attacked Korea like clockwork, Vishkar was shamelessly invading and displacing poorer communities, Talon strikes were relentless and ever increasing – the world was _dangerous_ again. He shuddered, remembering the cool, enticing voice of Ogundimu offering a place in the organization’s ranks. _We could use people of your caliber_ , he had said, and Hanzo had responded just short of spitting in his face.

 

_It’s time to pick a side._

 

With Overwatch gone and the UN in tatters, what side was there to pick?

 

His spiraling thoughts were interrupted by the sound of giggling children. Suckered in by the infectiousness of their joy, he turned around to see a small pack of schoolchildren clustered around an omnic. The omnic had a cluster of orbs draped like mala around his neck, but at the children’s pleading, he began to spin them, then direct them into patterns in the air. The orbs shone with light as they sped up, the streaks of their movement creating the outlines of whatever animals and objects his young audience requested.

 

“Only one more for today,” the omnic said after a while, and the children let out a collective groan of disappointment. He chuckled, his forehead array flickering in amusement. “None of that – I will return tomorrow. Would you mind if I chose this one? It is my husband’s favorite.” The orbs resumed their spinning, and they took a shape that was far too familiar for comfort. Before Hanzo could turn away, the omnic turned and looked him directly in the eyes. “It is a sparrow.”

 

Unable to hide the watering of his eyes, Hanzo fled.

 

\-----

 

He had a safehouse in Itō. It was a simple house tucked away in a grove of trees on the mountainside, an old huntsman’s residence he’d purchased on the cheap when he’d first left the Shimada clan behind. Sparsely furnished, yet comfortable, much like how his mother had decorated their private rooms. _It shouldn’t be cluttered,_ she’d explained once while he helped clean, _but it also shouldn’t look like no one lives here. That –_ she tapped his nose _– would be silly._

 

Hanzo sighed heavily, dropping his gear by the door and half-heartedly wiping off his prosthetics before proceeding inside. It was already nearing nightfall, so he put a pot of water on to boil, then jumped in the shower. The previous night’s battle had miraculously left him with only bruises; it was quick work to cover them with biotic gel to encourage quick healing. He pulled on sweatpants and a cardigan just as the water began to bubble.

 

Dinner was a simple affair – a box of ramen he found in the cabinet with some microwaved chicken mixed in – and he ate quickly, but neatly. Meals were much quicker when eaten alone. The pots were washed, dried, and stored away, as were the meager leftovers and the leftover mochi. Those could be tomorrow’s breakfast, if he decided to eat it. Finally, his energy spent completely, he collapsed onto his bed and slept.

 

\-----

 

_Hanzo’s dragons spiraled around him, their glowing bodies brushing against his skin in a threatening comfort. Across the room stood Genji, his own dragon perched atop his shoulder. The metal of his armor reflected Soba’s light, her color matched by the accents of his strange new body. He removed his mask. “It is time to pick a side.”_

_“What do you mean?” Hanzo asked desperately. “There are no sides to choose!”_

_“You must choose!” He insisted as Soba hissed, her scales rippling. “You must!”_

_Suddenly Genji was replaced with Ogundimu, sitting calmly in an office chair. “You must,” he said, “we could use-”_

_“-you fool!” his father spat, whirling in as Doomfist faded away. “You must protect the clan’s honor, not your brother’s childish escapades!” He raised his hand and Hanzo raised his arms to brace for a hit-_

_But none came. Instead, a bird made of pure golden light landed on his hand, chirping its sweet song. He inspected it, then raised his eyes to meet those of the omnic from earlier, clad in the garb of a monk. “My husband’s favorite,” he explained. “It is a sparrow.”_

 

He woke to tears on his pillow and a sob in his throat.

 

\-----

 

The next two-and-a-half weeks were spent doing anything except think about Genji. Hanzo took odd jobs around the city – going to the store for the elderly couple by the river, making deliveries for the woman who owned the pastry shop – and thanked any of the old gods who were listening that no one questioned his presence. He slept only when he had to, and never for more than two or three hours at a time. None were without nightmares. That ended, however, on day seventeen of his stay.

 

“Young man,” Noguchi-sama said one day as he brought in the shopping bags, “you are dead on your feet!”

 

“I am fine, thank you,” Hanzo said stiffly.

 

The older man clucked his tongue. “I have raised seven children,” he said. “I know what a tired face looks like. You walk home – that is not safe when exhausted. Take our guest room for the night, Shima-san.”

 

“No, I couldn’t possibly-”

 

“Ah-ah-ah! No arguments!” Noguchi-sama studied him for a moment, then rested a hand on his left shoulder, directly where his tattoo lay hidden. “I do not know exactly what you are hiding from,” he said gently, “but I do know that the root of your fear lies inside your own mind. Sleep, and then begin to heal. My spouse and I will be here should you have need of us.” Stunned into silence, Hanzo nodded and allowed himself to be directed down the hall.

 

\-----

 

_He stood on a grassy cliff overlooking the sea. The waves crashed against the sharp rocks below him, tiny in the great distance._

_“Brother!” He spun around and saw Genji locked in combat with Ogundimu. “The world is changing!” he cried, and indeed, the grass began to brown and die under Doomfist’s feet._

_“What can I do?” Hanzo asked. “Please, Genji-”_

_“You must choose!” Ogundimu ordered. He shot at Genji and drove him backwards, the green grass fading as the younger man lost ground._

_“Genji!” Hanzo tried to run to his aid, but he could not move. As Ogundimu advanced, Genji crawled backwards, closer and close to the cliff. The ground began to crumble beneath the brothers, and Hanzo reached out a hand to stop him. “No, don’t come near!”_

_The cliff broke, sending them tumbling down into nothingness, Doomfist standing triumphant above._

 

Hanzo shot upright, panting, a scream bottled in his chest. Noguchi-sama was standing in the doorway, concern written across his face. “Shima-san? Are you well?” he asked.

 

“…Hanzo,” he said finally. “My name is Hanzo.”

 

“Of course, Hanzo,” Noguchi-sama said. “Please, come have some tea.”

 

\-----

 

Noguchi-sama’s name was Kazumi, he said, and he asked Hanzo to use it. “My spouse’s name is Jitsuko. They will be here in a moment – their plants are their first love.” He gently pressed a cup of tea into his hands. “Drink. You will feel better.”

 

“I’m sorry for disturbing your routine,” Hanzo said after a moment’s silence. “I will take my leave as soon as possible.”

 

“Oh, nonsense!” Kazumi said, waving a dismissive hand. “As I mentioned before, I raised seven children. I do not know what a routine is.” He smiled at his own joke, but his face quickly grew serious. “What bothers you, Hanzo? I will tell no one, on my honor.”

 

Hanzo swallowed. “I have done…terrible things,” he admitted quietly, “many of them because they were orders which I followed without question. My family was not known for its good works.” He fiddled with his left sleeve, then rolled it up to reveal the dragons beneath. “I am a Shimada.”

 

Kazumi didn’t even flinch. “A name does not a person make,” he said, “but there is more to your story. Continue.”

 

“After my father died, I was told to kill my brother. I refused. They imprisoned many members of my mother’s family and told me again to kill him…and I did.” Hanzo sipped his tea to wet his suddenly dry mouth. “I have never since felt such regret. After three months, I left the Shimada clan and sent incriminating documents anonymously to Overwatch. My disappearance destabilized the clan, and it fell within five years.”

 

“You were the heir.”

 

“I was,” he said, “and the leader, for a short time. But that is not where my problem lies.” He took a deep breath and spoke the words aloud for the first time. “My brother is alive. Nearly three weeks ago, he confronted me in Hanamura, our childhood home. He told me he had forgiven me.”

 

“…Please explain,” Kazumi murmured, “how this is a problem.”

 

Hanzo blinked. “What I did to him is unforgivable!”

 

“Yet he forgave you.”

 

“I killed him!”

 

“Obviously not, as he is still alive.”

 

“But-”

 

“Hanzo.” The elderly man took both of Hanzo’s hands in his own. “Your brother has given you a gift. He sought you out to give you this gift of forgiveness. He loves you so dearly!”

 

“He should not,” Hanzo argued, but it was a weak attempt. “It has been ten years.”

 

“Ten years you have sat with an open wound on your spirit,” Kazumi said sadly. “Child, you must _heal._ ”

 

\-----

 

Kazumi and Jitsuko insisted he stay with them through the weekend, so he returned to his cabin to retrieve some of his things. They set him up in the guest room, and while he was unpacking, Jitsuko stopped in with a small stack of blankets.

 

“It is supposed to get cold tonight,” they said, setting them down on the bed. They frowned as they caught sight of Hanzo’s clothes. “How old are these?”

 

Hanzo glanced down at the haori he held, running his fingers over the worn fabric. “This was a gift for my twenty-fifth birthday.”

 

“And how old are you now?”

 

“…Thirty-seven.”

 

“Thirty-seven, and already so tired of life.” Jitsuko reached up and patted his face gently. “Tomorrow you will go and buy new things. None of that traditional wear, either – you are not in the clan anymore. Buy a t-shirt or three.” They stood. “My husband is burning us some lunch. I should have it salvaged in a half-hour or so.”

 

“Thank you, Jitsuko.”

 

“Ah, it isn’t a problem,” they said. “Lunch in thirty minutes, and I will drag you out if I have to.”

 

“I do not doubt you,” Hanzo said with a slight smile, and his host laughed as they left. As soon as they were gone, however, he ducked into the bathroom and looked into the mirror.

 

Thirty-seven, nearly thirty-eight, by all accounts in his prime. But as he stood there staring at his reflection, he all he could see was the grey licking at his temples and the worry lines creasing his eyes. Was that what Genji had seen? An old man, tired of life before his time? He pulled his hair out of its ponytail and finger-combed the strands. It was long past time for a trim anyway, and doing it himself never went well…

 

Jitsuko was right. It was time for a change.

 

\-----

 

He followed his hosts’ orders, and the next evening found the three of them sitting in the kitchen, Hanzo dressed in his new, “real human clothes” (according to Jitsuko) and Kazumi holding a razor in one hand.

 

“Are you sure?” he asked. “This is a big jump.”

 

“I am certain,” Hanzo said. “I trust you.”

 

“Possibly misplaced,” Jitsuko muttered, and their husband hushed them through giggles. Kazumi turned on the razor and began.

 

The whole haircut took maybe thirty minutes of careful shaving and trimming, but it wasn’t long before Hanzo was left with a neat undercut, all traces of grey gone. He ran his hand over his freshly-shaved scalp, the feeling extremely satisfying in more ways than one. “Thank you,” he said and, as usual, Kazumi waved it off.

 

“I have done plenty of haircuts,” he said. “It was no matter to do another.”

 

When he came home the next day with several new piercings, Jitsuko laughed so hard they fell off their chair. “You owe me thirty yen!” they cackled, and Kazumi handed it over as Hanzo sputtered in confusion and indignance.

 

\-----

 

At the end of the weekend, he gave his thanks and returned to his own house. The Noguchis sent along several days’ worth of dinners, despite his protests, and he had been unsurprised to find their numbers programmed into his cellphone.

 

He bundled himself up in his jacket when the stars came out and settled himself on the porch railing. The wind mussed what remained of his hair, let loose for the night, and he could hear the animals in the forest around him running wild. It was peaceful in a way he couldn’t quite pin down, and he took the time to contemplate.

 

His stay with the Noguchis had been…enlightening. They had refused his apologies, called out his self-deprecation, continuously reminded him of the good he had done and was doing – things no one had ever done for him, even his own mother. Although she, to be fair, knew the full extent of the clan’s actions, so it was likely that she could not in good conscience say that her children were truly good men. Even better, their good humor had kept his dreams at bay, and he was decently-rested for the first time in years.

 

_“Perhaps I am a fool, to think there is still hope for you.”_

 

Surely there wasn’t, but…perhaps there was. Even the slightest sliver, found in the tiny part of him that had wanted to embrace his brother on the spot, the tiny part of him that led him back to Shimada Castle year after year to mourn the death of his closest – no, _only_ – friend and sibling.

 

Why did he feel the need to continue to punish himself, even after his brother was shown to live? Why did he outright refuse to acknowledge the forgiveness which had been offered him? Why did he distance himself from the warning tale of the dragon brothers, when it was so clearly a reflection of his own life?

 

Why couldn’t he just…say yes?

 

Hanzo suddenly knew more than anything that he needed to see Genji again, if just to prove it to himself. Prove he wasn’t crazy, prove the encounter had happened, prove that the brother he had thought dead had stood in front of him and spoken his name. In a moment of weakness and foolish hope, he went back inside and placed the new sparrow feather on the windowsill, half-remembered tales from his childhood promising both good luck and the capture of souls.

 

When he woke, there were two.

 

\-----

 

Genji obviously knew where he lived, and for the next several weeks they communicated through leaving things on Hanzo’s windowsill. He left a pastry and woke the next morning to a sample-size box of cereal with an over-caffeinated-looking DJ on it. He left a book with poems about cats, and received a battered-looking Captain Ana Amari bobblehead, which immediately earned a place of honor on his kitchen counter. When he came home from working at the pastry shop on his birthday, there was a cakebox sitting on his doorstep with a birthday card taped to the top (“Happy 38th, you grump! With love, Genji”).

 

Finally, he left a note. _Dinner tomorrow night, here, 7? (Bring your husband.)_

 

_We will be there! (How did you know about my husband?)_

\-----

 

When the knock came, Hanzo was already at the door. He pulled it open before he could second-guess himself and was rewarded with an armful of Genji.

 

“I thought you would never talk to me,” Genji murmured into his neck.

 

Hanzo held him tighter, taking in the feel of the cybernetics which now made up his younger brother. “I had to eventually. You are very stubborn.”

 

“Pot, kettle.” Genji pulled back and studied him. “You got a new look!” He poked at the Hanzo’s bridge piercing. “I like it!”

 

“Careful, it’s still sensitive.” Remembering his manners, he disentangled himself from Genji and greeted his other guest. “Good evening. You are not very subtle.”

 

“I am when I wish to be,” the omnic from the waterfront said, offering up the box of cookies he held. “That was not one of those times.”

 

“Oh, right!” Genji smacked himself in the forehead. “Hanzo, this is my husband, Tekhartha Zenyatta. He’s a monk.”

 

“A pleasure,” Hanzo said, “and my condolences for the loss of your brother.”

 

“Thank you,” Zenyatta said. “He touched many. His presence will be greatly missed.”

 

The three retreated inside fully and settled down to eat. Silence reigned as the brothers re-evaluated each other, Hanzo especially taking interest in Genji’s face. He had removed his helmet entirely, revealing scar-covered flesh and – to no surprise – bright green hair.

 

“Of course you kept the color,” Hanzo remarked, nodding at the florescent mop atop his brother’s head.

 

“It is recent,” Genji said, grimacing slightly. “I dyed it back to black while I was in Blackwatch, but didn’t bother returning to green until Zenyatta pointed out my greys.”

 

“I thought you looked dignified!” Zenyatta said, and it had the tone of a well-worn non-argument. “Although I must admit, I do enjoy that shade. It matches Soba.”

 

“That’s why he chose it in the first place,” Hanzo grumbled, but smiled. “How is she?”

 

Genji snorted. “Ornery as ever. Yours?”

 

“Adventurous and cuddly.” As if on cue, both men silently freed their dragons, the spirits forming wrapped around their respective shoulders. It took all of a second for them to recognize one another and barrel off to cause whatever mischief they could. Hanzo nodded in satisfaction. “That should take care of that. I could feel them itching,” he explained to his new-found brother-in-law, “it was distracting.”

 

“Soba is a common sight at the Shambali monastery,” Zenyatta said. “I would not be surprised if she is more missed than the two of us.”

 

“She is certainly a charmer,” Hanzo said, allowing himself a small smirk. “I’m sure that Genji could learn much from her.”

 

“Oh, definitely,” Zenyatta agreed to his husband’s dismay. “I love him dearly, but he does not do well with his words at times.”

 

“I’m right here!” Genji whined.

 

“How could I forget?” Hanzo teased. It was so _easy_ to fall back into the beats of conversation, the dance neither one of them truly forgot. For all the time they had been separated, they were still brothers, and that had to count for something. “What happened…after the fight?” he asked quietly.

 

“You answer first.”

 

“I asked first.”

 

“You broke our mother’s anniversary vase with my frisbee when you were ten and I was eight. Pay up.” Genji folded his arms and sat back triumphantly.

 

Hanzo stared at him. “Are you fucking serious?”

 

“Deadass.”

 

“…Fine,” he said after a moment. “Fine. Okay. So…I sat there with your…body…for nearly an hour before two of our uncles came and dragged me away from you. I was drugged unconscious, slept for nearly a week, and when I finally came to, they told me everything had been ‘taken care of’.”

 

“You didn’t know I’d been taken?”

 

Hanzo shook his head. “I had no idea. I stumbled through pretending to not care about you and continued leading the clan for three months before I finally had enough. With the help of some of my personal contacts, I gathered up as much incriminating information as I could about your death, the assassinations, the arms trade – everything – and sent it in anonymously to Overwatch. I escaped that night. I’ve been on the run as a vigilante and hitman ever since.”

 

Genji was gaping. “That was you?”

 

“What was me?”

 

“The tip!” Genji exclaimed, slamming his hands down on the table. “That gave us all we needed to take them down!”

 

“You were with Overwatch?” Hanzo said, stunned. “How did I not see you sooner?”

 

“I wasn’t Overwatch,” the cyborg explained excitedly, “I was Blackwatch. It was a covert operations division led by Gabriel Reyes, and I was on the main hit squad. Reyes, Jesse McCree, and Dr. Angela Ziegler were on the extraction team that came and got me – I’m willing to bet that the elders had been tipped off, as they had to fight for me.”

 

“That was why they pulled me away! They didn’t want them to arrest me!”

 

“No, Angela and Gabriel would have been able to tell in an instant that you were under duress,” Genji said, certainty in every bone and piston. “You would have been out of there right along with me.” He softened slightly. “I read those files over and over, but I was still so angry. It was…an adjustment. Angela and her team had to do a great deal of reconstruction, so I was in a lot of pain at first. I was also learning for the first time that I had been abused. My time in Blackwatch was primarily about my physical health. The mental didn’t come until…until I met Zenyatta really.” Hanzo glanced over at the omnic, but his brother-in-law gave no reaction. A truth, then.

 

“Did they treat you well?” he asked.

 

“I had a family,” Genji said. “All of them, Overwatch and Blackwatch alike, took me in with open arms. I called my superiors Mom and Dad, some of them Uncle and Aunt. Jesse was like another brother to me, and Fareeha Amari and Lena Oxton were – _are_ – the little sisters I never had. They are good people.” He smiled and reached across the table, taking Hanzo’s hands in his own. “You would have done well with them, I know it.”

 

Tears filled Hanzo’s eyes, and he made no attempt to hold them back. “I am so sorry I did this to you,” he sobbed. Genji made a sound of alarm and rounded the table, pulling his brother into his embrace. “How can you sit here after I hurt you so badly? I _broke_ you!”

 

“Hey, hey!” Genji soothed. “Easy, anija, take some deep breaths. Now listen,” he said, “I believe very firmly in fate. There are many paths which we can take to get there, but the end goal is the same. No matter what happened, I was meant to be with Blackwatch, you were meant to dismantle the clan, Zenyatta and I were meant to meet…but, most importantly, you and I were meant to reunite.” Hanzo felt a sudden warmth and looked up to find one of Zenyatta’s orbs hovering over his head, its golden glow seeming to fill holes in him he didn’t know existed. Genji smiled. “There, now. We made it in the end, didn’t we?”

 

He swallowed, then lifted a hand to squeeze the back of his brother’s neck. “We did.”

 

“Travel with us,” Zenyatta said suddenly. Hanzo blinked and turned to look at him, confused. “You need not be alone anymore, my friend,” he explained. “We are your family. You can continue to rebuild your bond with your brother and the three of us together can work to heal what is broken. Those hands of yours have more to offer than death.”

 

“How did you-”

 

“I…expressed a similar sentiment when I left Blackwatch,” Genji admitted. “I traveled on my own for a while, then spent a few weeks with Fareeha in Egypt. She told me about the Shambali and sent me off to them. Zenyatta was the first one I met. We just…” he shrugged, “clicked. I was an angry young man, newly abandoned by my second family, and he was a monk with a lot of love to give.”

 

“That is the cheesiest thing I have ever heard,” Hanzo deadpanned.

 

“I’m being honest!” Genji protested, crossing his arms in indignance.

 

Zenyatta nearly cackled. “ _Please_ come with us,” he said. “If we have to leave behind such a sense of humor, our travels will be dull indeed.”

 

He wanted to say no. He really, really did. _I hurt you. It could happen again. What if those from your new family return and I am left behind once again?_ But when he looked at the smiling omnic next to him, looked at the pleading expression in his brother’s deep brown eyes, all he could say was yes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Translations:**  
>  Japanese:  
> Ohayou - Good morning  
> Watashi wa anata no tame ni nani ga te ni hairimasu ka? - (roughly) What can I get you?  
> Sono Chi no 3tsu kudasai. - (roughly) Please give me three of them. 
> 
> **Writing Notes:**  
>  1) Hanzo is _tired._ He is so, so tired of hurting, and ten years out from Genji's supposed death he is still really struggling. His mum would be cross.  
> 2) Doomfist, canonically, is attempting to recruit Hanzo. Hanzo, also canonically, repeatedly rejects him.  
> 3) Zenyatta, as always, knows when someone needs a bit of a push.  
> 4) Several of the Shimada's in-game interactions indicate that their father was...not the nicest man in the world. Given Hanzo's motivations and traumas, I made my own interpretation.  
> 5) I had far too much fun with the dreams.  
> 6) The Noguchi family just sort of...happened. Ah well, I love them anyway. And yes, Hanzo is using a fake name while in town.  
> 7) Hanzo was fairly close to making the decisions about his appearance on his own, but he really needed a support system to make it happen.  
> 8) The scene with the feathers on the windowsill was the very first scene I thought up and wrote for this story.  
> 9) I just thought it would be funny if Hanzo idolized Ana, then ended up working with her. It also makes their meeting in TL;TF that much funnier.  
> 10) All of the dragons are like a combination of cats and dogs. Maybe dog-like cats would be more accurate.  
> 11) I love me some Sass-yatta. 
> 
> More is coming! Be prepared! 
> 
> I'm also rina-san28 on Tumblr! Feel free to come by and say hello, have a chat, or drop some requests for what you'd like to see in the series!


	2. Of Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo, finally, was absolved of his sins and reunited with his brother. Surely the world couldn't bless him with anything more.
> 
> Or could it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2, here we come! 
> 
> This takes place six months after the end of the previous chapter and about five before the opening cinematic of the game. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Hanzo had been traveling with them for nearly six months when it happened.

 

Genji and Zenyatta went out to dinner while they were in the southern tip of Mexico, partially so the public could see that the Shambali were still at work in the world, but mostly so they could celebrate their third wedding anniversary. (Hanzo had given them a gift in the form of paying for his own, completely separate motel room two floors above theirs.) He himself was enjoying the solitude that was rare when in a group. Midway through the TV documentary he was half-watching, his attention was drawn by a muffled beeping. “What on earth…”

 

He dug through his things, puzzled, until his eyes landed on his jacket where it hung on the back of the cheap desk chair. A red light blinked through the fabric, perfectly aligned with the noise. Scrambling over, he pulled out the heavy ring of keys and alarms Genji had entrusted to him for the evening and tugged off the offending piece of equipment. It was small, fitting neatly in the palm of his hand, and decorated with worn My Little Pony and smiling cacti stickers. His nose wrinkled in confusion. What kind of important alarm would be covered in such childish things? Shrugging, he called Genji anyway.

 

 _“I do not need an extended warranty for my car,”_ Genji said in lieu of a greeting.

 

Hanzo sighed. “Hello, loving little brother,” he said. “One of your alarms is beeping.”

 

_“If it’s the one I drew a dick on, you can just press the button to shut it off. I took my medications already.”_

 

“No,” Hanzo said, turning over the little remote in one hand, “this one has cacti and ponies on it.” He frowned. “This isn’t some sort of baby monitor, is it? You aren’t hiding a niece or nephew from me?”

 

There was a beat of silence on the other end before Genji let out an extremely colorful string of language. _“We’re coming back now,”_ he ordered, and Hanzo could almost taste the tension in his voice. _“Pack up your stuff, ours too if we aren’t there before you’re done. I’ll explain on the way out.”_

 

The call ended without so much as a _goodbye_ , leaving Hanzo to toss his belongings back into his duffle. Whatever was going on had Genji _scared_ , more so than he’d heard him in years.

 

Something was very, _very_ wrong.

 

\-----

 

Instead of saying _hello_ , Genji reached into Hanzo’s pocket and snatched the still-blinking device. He punched in a code before opening a port in his forearm and clicking the device in place.

 

“Genji,” Hanzo said cautiously, “what is going on?”

 

“McCree is in trouble,” Genji said. He picked up his duffle from the small pile of things Hanzo had dumped on the lobby floor. “He gave this to me before I left Blackwatch, just in case.”

 

“How long has it been since you’ve seen him?”

 

“Six years.” Genji removed the now-silent device. “This,” he said, raising it for his husband and brother to see, “is an emergency homing device. He can only activate it once by entering a specific code. Very small and easy to hide on his end. He has one for me that is attached to my prosthetics from when we were combat partners, so it was a fair trade. I have a decoder in my arm-” he tapped the port, “-and when it is finished, I will have the coordinates.”

 

“How long will it take?” Zenyatta asked. In a rare display of public affection, he took Genji’s flesh hand in both of his own, gently kneading the tense joints.

 

“Not much longer,” Genji said. “Are we checked out?”

 

“I took care of it,” Hanzo said, “we can leave as soon as you’re ready.”

 

As if on cue, Genji twitched. “Done.” He whipped out his phone and punched in a long string of numbers. “Zen, where…?”

 

Zenyatta tilted his head, processing the information. “The southwestern United States, near the border. The specific coordinates register somewhere just east of Tucson, Arizona.”

 

“It would be quicker to fly,” Hanzo said. “There is an airport relatively nearby. Perhaps it can get us to the general area.”

 

\-----

 

They were able to catch a flight to Texas on short notice, though they had to sprint to the gate. It took another puddle-jumper to make it to Arizona. When they finally stumbled off the plane, strung out on travel exhaustion and adrenaline, Genji could barely be restrained.

 

“What if we’re too late?” he fretted, clutching to Zenyatta’s hand like a lifeline. “The beacon activated nearly twenty-four hours ago!”

 

“At least we were on the same continent,” Hanzo said, though he received a sharp elbow in the ribs from his brother-in-law. “It was an optimistic statement!”

 

“Is there any way you can override it and ping it again?” Zenyatta asked in his eternally calm voice.

 

Genji shook his head. “I highly doubt it. Jesse was very paranoid about trackers.”

 

Not for the first time, Hanzo wished he could see through his brother’s visor, if only to better gauge what he was thinking. He flagged down a cab as his companions debated their options. When he had first joined his new-found family on their travels, he researched every single person from the now-defunct Overwatch that Genji had mentioned. Of all of them, McCree was one of the few still confirmed alive and, although the fifty-five-million-dollar bounty on his head was concerning, Genji’s stories had shown it to be true to character.

 

But what would have triggered a man so evidently fearless to send out a desperate cry for help? Not the national authorities, Hanzo figured. Those were relatively easy to avoid and escape from, and his outstanding warrants were overall minor. They weren’t in Deadlock territory, so while it was something to consider, it certainly wasn’t their top priority.

 

_Talon, then._

 

Genji seemed to reach a similar conclusion, putting it forward in hushed Japanese. Hanzo nodded casually, as if he’d been asked about his appetite, while Zenyatta responded with a more specific location. They stopped the cab at a golf course and, thanking every available deity for both nightfall and an early winter, jacked a car and slipped off into the desert.

 

\-----

 

They found themselves at the base of a plateau, tucked in amongst deep crevices which shielded them from the road. While not completely remote, it was far out enough that no activity would have been noticed by nearby residents. Hanzo scanned the ground for any signs of disturbed rock. There were signs of a struggle, but it stopped, almost as if…

 

“Genji,” Hanzo called, “come over here for a moment.” Hidden at back of a rock formation was a seam.

 

Genji snorted as he studied it. “Amateurs.” He tapped a smattering of spots on the door, then slammed his palm behind and to the left of a large cactus. The rock – or wall, Hanzo supposed – sparked, then parted to reveal a dark passage leading down into the ground. The former Blackwatch agent smirked, then bowed dramatically, gesturing into the abyss. “After you, Shimada-san.”

 

“Age before beauty,” Hanzo retorted.

 

Before Genji could retaliate, Zenyatta pushed past both of them and entered. “Come along, gentlemen,” the monk said idly. “Follow the one of us who can see in the dark.”

 

Hanzo blinked. “Good point,” he said, and followed.

 

They continued along in silence for a while, although Hanzo was less than convinced that his companions weren’t conversing in a way he couldn’t hear. Zenyatta led them deeper and deeper into the bowels of the base. Not a sign of life was seen – no cameras, lights, or even pocket lint marked the presence of a single person. Hanzo was about ready to suggest turning back when Genji suddenly grabbed his shoulder.

 

“ _Listen!”_ the cyborg hissed, and Hanzo stopped in his tracks. He slowed his breathing, hushed his heartbeat and… _there._ From forward and to the left drifted off-key whistling, an old pop song if he had a guess.

 

“Could Soba track him down?” he asked.

 

“Most likely,” Genji said after a moment. “She liked him a lot, so she probably remembers him.” The little green dragon appeared at a breath, her light dimmed for the hunt. Her master whispered her goal and she vanished around the corner. She’d hardly been gone a second before Genji visibly relaxed. “He’s there.”

 

“Are there any obstacles?” Zenyatta asked, already moving.

 

“No human or omnic guards,” Genji said after a pause. “He’s in an old-fashioned holding cell with bars. She says he is injured.”

 

“He’s probably in bad enough shape that they felt fine leaving him alone,” Hanzo said. “It is a favorite tactic of auxiliary bases.” He followed them around the bend, but was forced to backpedal to avoid crashing into his brother’s back. “What is it?”

 

Genji sighed. “He is…so drugged.”

 

“Drugged?” Hanzo peered around him and… _well._

 

Slumped on the floor of the old-fashioned jail cell was a literal, in-the-flesh cowboy. Spurs glinted on the back of his cowboy boots, a red blanket-like cloth was draped over his torso, and, to top it all off, a cowboy hat was tilted down to cover most of his face. What wasn’t covered by clothes was dotted with bruises and sluggishly bleeding scrapes. Hanzo couldn’t help but take in his broad shoulders and sturdy frame. _Not bad_ , he thought. Out loud he said, “When you said he was a cowboy, I thought you were joking.”

 

“I would never joke about cowboys, anija,” Genji said, quickly slicing the lock and entering. “Besides, have I ever steered you wrong?”

 

Hanzo’s murmur of _frequently_ was ignored.

 

The cyborg frowned when his presence went entirely unnoticed; the lump of human didn’t so much as flinch when poked, instead continuing his lazy and off-key whistle. “Master,” Genji asked, “do you happen to have one of my stim shots on you?” Zenyatta wordlessly produced one, then spun his harmony orb to rest over McCree’s head. “ _Arigatō._ ” Without much ceremony, he pulled the blanket aside and stabbed the shot into the man’s neck.

 

“Fuckin’ _shit!_ ” McCree leapt to his feet, teetering unsteadily for a moment before dropping back to the floor in a flailing pile of limbs. “What in the…” He blinked, then looked at the cyborg still calmly crouched in front of him. “Who the fresh hell are you?”

 

“Aw, you do not recognize me, McCree?” Genji said, a teasing lilt in his voice. “I am hurt. I really thought we had something.”

 

“Gen- you little shit! C’mere!” With that joyful exclamation, Genji disappeared into a violent bear hug. “You’re lookin’ fine,” McCree drawled. He tried again to stand, slower this time, and hummed when he managed to stay on his feet. “What’d you do to me?”

 

“I am still in the habit of carrying around adrenaline shots,” Genji said. “I didn’t stop to think that it would affect you that strongly.”

 

“If you had asked, I would have reminded you, dear,” Zenyatta said mildly, stroking Soba where she was perched on his shoulder.

 

“I was in a bit of a hurry,” Genji protested, but there was a sheepish note in his voice. “Anyway, you will likely have a nasty headache later. Sorry about that.”

 

McCree shrugged. “Can’t be worse than gettin’ the shit beat outta me by some Talon goons. Any sign of Peacekeeper?”

 

“I already took care of it.” Zenyatta plucked Soba down and held her out at arms’ length before giving her a shake. The spirit dragon rippled, then released a silver revolver from…somewhere. “She is a very good finder.”

 

“I thank you much, little lady,” McCree said with a tip of his hat. He reached over with his metal arm and scratched her under the chin, prompting a pleased purr that put a smile on his handsome face. _No, Hanzo, not now. Do not do this. You will regret it, Genji will make sure._ “Now, who’re these friends of yours?”

 

“Ah, yes!” Genji looked mildly embarrassed as he recalled Soba. “This is Tekhartha Zenyatta, my husband of three years now.”

 

“A husband?” McCree asked, a delighted expression turning his face to sunshine. “Lookit you, an honest man! Pleasure to meet you, Zenyatta!”

 

“The pleasure is mine,” Zenyatta responded, offering a bow of his head.

 

“And this,” Genji continued, “is my brother, Hanzo.” Hanzo stiffened slightly, ready for that warmth to turn to hatred, for a punch, for some kind of blow…that didn’t come. Instead, McCree looked him up and down with a slow whistle.

 

 “Golly, Shimada,” he said, “you didn’t tell me he was such a looker.”

 

“I aged better of the two of us,” Hanzo said on reflex, and Zenyatta let out a sound suspiciously close to a giggle. “My brother has spoken highly of you, McCree.”

 

“Ah, none o’ that,” the man said. He strolled over and Hanzo found himself tilting his head back to look him in the eye. “Call me Jesse.”

 

“Very well,” he said, but before anything else could happen (Hanzo squashed the piece of him that was disappointed), Genji’s head snapped around to face an unheard threat.

 

“We need to leave, quickly,” he said. “Jesse, can you run?”

 

McCree – Jesse’s – face turned serious. “I can. We gonna need to?”

 

“ _Hai_.”

 

“Let’s get to it, then.” With Zenyatta in the lead and Hanzo at the tail, they bolted through the hallways and out into the night.

 

\-----

 

Jesse ended up sleeping for most of the next thirty hours, only waking to eat dinner with Zenyatta’s prompting. To try and stop his brother’s fretting, Hanzo dragged him out to the ice cream parlor around the corner, shamelessly drawing on the same tactics he’d used when they were children.

 

“Eat,” he ordered, plonking a ludicrously sized bowl of ice cream in front of Genji. “You’ll feel better.”

 

“I thought that was only with Snickers,” Genji said as he shamelessly dug in.

 

Hanzo rolled his eyes. “Impertinent.” He studied the other man, taking in his tense shoulders and tight eyes. “You are still concerned.”

 

Genji made a face. “Is it that obvious?”

 

“Your tells are the same. What worries you?”

 

“…Something happened to him before now and he didn’t call me.” He frowned. “Jesse had two arms last I saw him. He was in a fight or an accident or something that was severe enough to cost him a limb and he didn’t call me, but him being drugged in a Talon basement was?”

 

Hanzo chewed on his answer for a long moment. “We will need to speak with him when he wakes,” he said finally. “It could be the circumstances of his capture rather than the capture itself. You know that well, I assume, from your Blackwatch days.”

 

“You’re probably right,” Genji said, though he sounded reluctant to agree. “Jesse was essentially Reyes’s right hand man in the field. He specialized in intel collection. It is possible that he set off the distress call prior to his capture.” Any further speculation was cut off by Genji’s cell phone blaring _Hips Don’t Lie_ at an embarrassingly loud volume. The cyborg snickered as he answered. “Hello _anata._ How is – oh! Yes, we’re still…okay. Five minutes. Does he want anything?” Genji rolled his eyes at Hanzo with a grin. “Fine. Tell the princess to calm his tits, we’ll bring him his coffee. I love you, too. Bye.” He ate the last of his ice cream at a frightening speed, then stood. “He wants a frappuchino.”

 

“We’ll make it two, then,” Hanzo said, “I have a coupon.” They strolled over to the coffee shop and ordered quickly, by some miracle hitting a quiet moment. Hanzo thought his question over carefully. “So…what is he… _like_?”

 

Maybe not as carefully as he should have, judging by the shit-eating grin that split Genji’s face.

 

“Well, for one thing,” Genji said, elbowing him teasingly in the ribs, “Reyes loved to say that he was ‘gayer than a maypole,’ which is excellent news for you.”

 

“ _Genji!”_

 

“I am just saying that you have common ground!” he laughed. “In all seriousness, however, he is one of the kindest people I have ever met. Polite, helpful, loyal to a fault – basically a golden retriever in human form. Except he also knows about three hundred different ways to kill a person in any given scenario, so maybe a German shepherd would be a better comparison.”

 

Hanzo stayed quiet. Or, tried to at least. However, his brother’s energy was just so infectious, his trust so earnest, that he found himself opening up – a thing he never would have dreamed of as a younger man.

 

“…He is very tall.”

 

“I fucking knew it,” Genji said. He scooped their drinks off the counter, tossing a wink and a cheery salute to the barista. “He is _exactly_ your type, anija! I think you should go for it.”

 

He jerked his head around, startled. “Really? It wouldn’t-”

 

“Bother me? No!” Genji reassured. “Jesse is a good man, yes, but he overcame many trials to become that man. I trust him with my life, just as I do you. While it has been some time since we last met, I do not doubt that he is still as dedicated as he was back then. And do you know what?” he asked, lowering his voice conspiratorially.

 

Hanzo rolled his eyes, but played along. “What?”

 

“He is _super_ into your ass. Ow!” Genji yelped, prancing away to avoid another whack. “I’m being honest!”

 

“You can’t just say things like that!” Hanzo’s cheeks were burning.

 

“I believe I just did!”

 

“You are insufferable!” he growled. “ _Okāsama_ must have dropped you on your head as an infant.”

 

“Eh,” Genji shrugged, “probably.” They entered the lobby and he punched the call button for the elevator. “I was a wiggler.”

 

“Was?”

 

The elevator ride was silent, but Genji held out a hand to stop him before he could swipe the key card. “Hey,” he said quietly. “Give it a chance. We are all adults who can make our own decisions. See where this goes – you and Jesse would be good for each other.” He squeezed Hanzo’s shoulder. “It is okay to let yourself be loved.”

 

“I-” he began, but something made him swallow the protest. “I understand,” he said instead, and Genji smiled.

 

“Good.” He took the card from his hand, replaced it with McCree’s drink, and swept into the room with his usual bravado, allowing Hanzo to center himself before following.

 

\-----

 

McCree was awake and gloriously shirtless, leaning against the headboard as he broodily puffed a cigarillo. Zenyatta had sewn up the worst of his wounds with clean, even stitches while he’d slept, and they blended into the patchwork of scars already weaving their way around his body. ( _Like father like son,_ Genji had commented, eyes hidden but voice sad.) “Thank you kindly,” he said, accepting the offered coffee. “You are an angel without wings.”

 

“They broke off in a car accident,” Hanzo deadpanned. “Incredibly traumatic.”

 

The other man snorted, then let out a giggle that could only be called _adorable._ “I think we’re gonna get on mighty fine, darlin’,” he said, and _dammit he had no right to be that charming._

 

“Now we all know that I am a _sucker_ for a good chick flick,” Genji said, dropping onto the other bed next to his husband, “but we didn’t pull you out of there just so you could flirt with my brother. What happened, McCree?”

 

Jesse sputtered for a moment, but regained his wits admiringly quickly. “I found some information,” he said. He took another long drag of his cigarillo. “Thought you should know.”

 

Genji’s eyebrows creased and _something_ changed in his posture. “What did you find?” His words were clipped and tense, and Zenyatta made a subtle shift as if to steady him.

 

“…How much do they know?” Jesse asked instead, nodding towards Hanzo and Zenyatta. “‘Bout Blackwatch, I mean.”

 

“I’ve told them everything,” Genji said immediately, “both mission-related and personal.”

 

“Good,” he said, “‘cause…” He gulped. “I…found Papá.”

 

“What do you mean ‘found him’?” Genji asked, eyes narrowing. “He’s gone, Jesse. He died in Geneva.”

 

Jesse shook his head vehemently. “He got out. Well, he got pulled out.” The cowboy pulled himself to his feet and began to pace. “You left right after Doomfist got got, so you wouldn’a seen it. He started gettin’, well, squirrely. Started missin’ appointments with Angie, came up with excuses to miss more n’ more training sessions, that kinda thing. O’Deorain-” he spit the name like a curse, “was on real thin ice, but he insisted on keepin’ her. I just couldn’t get it.

 

“Then one day, Dad asked me to run him somethin’, an intel report, I think. I caught Reyes on his way up from her labs, and he was…smokin’. Not like, y’know,” he clarified, waving his own smoke, “I’m talkin’ black _stuff_ comin’ off of him like a broken fog machine.”

 

“You believe Dr. O’Deorain was experimenting on him?” Zenyatta asked mildly, but Hanzo could read the tension in his joints.

 

Jesse smiled grimly. “I know she was. I wasn’t trained in covert operations for nothin’.” He dropped back down onto the bed, elbows on his knees. For a moment, he stared at his metal hand, opening and closing the fist as if the motion itself could collect his thoughts. “He was dyin’ already,” he said finally. “All those chemicals an’ shit the government poured into him were breakin’ down, makin’ him rot like a walking corpse. He was desperate and suddenly there was the person he needed: Dr. Moira O’Deorain, a world-renowned geneticist more than fine with keepin’ things under lock an’ key in exchange for a little leeway.”

 

“She’s on Talon’s inner council,” Hanzo blurted out, and all eyes in the room shot to him. _Oops._ “They tried to recruit me a year or so back,” he said. He allowed himself a smirk at the memory. “I told them they could shove it, in detail, but not before I was given a summary of the structural hierarchy.”

 

Jesse was staring open-mouthed, though he gathered himself at Hanzo’s raised eyebrow. “You’d’ve done a marvel in Blackwatch,” he said.

 

“I told you!” Genji nodded enthusiastically. He sobered quickly, getting back to the matter at hand. “You think the witch took Reyes to Talon?”

 

“I know she did,” Jesse said grimly, “and I have the data to prove it.” He flicked open a compartment in his metal arm and removed a small data stick. “We’ll need a secure computer if you wanna see it yourself, but this stick has the treatment and maintenance plan for Gabriel Reyes, codename Reaper.”

 

Genji’s mask clattered to the floor as Jesse’s composure shattered. Broad shoulders curled in on themselves as the man struggled to bottle a sob, and in that moment Hanzo could see the echo of a scared child – a feeling he could relate to all too well. Unable to stop himself, he reached out and pressed a firm, steadying hand to Jesse’s shoulder. Any concerns about it being a bad move were erased when his hand was encased in a large, calloused one as the comfort was acknowledged, accepted, and, inexplicably, returned.

 

“The double shotguns,” Genji whispered, his eyes far away as he mentally ran through Reaper’s profile, “the mask – not just for identity, he had to have been badly injured in some way-”

 

“We need to find Angie,” Jesse ground out. “Apparently she ended up on the first responder team and found him while he was barely alive. Accordin’ to O’Deorain’s notes, she tried to heal him, but whatever mess his cells’d been turned into reacted with Angie’s nanites. Made his condition way worse, I guess.”

 

“Do you think she can fix it?” Hanzo asked.

 

“She’s the smartest person in the goddamn world,” Jesse said, certainty in every word. “If she can’t figure somethin’ out, nobody can.” He gave Hanzo’s hand a pat, then stood up again to resume his pacing. “I’m gonna need to lay low for a while, let the heat pass. I could send the data off with you folks-”

 

“We’re not going anywhere, Jesse,” Genji said. “You’re stuck with us now. Sorry.”

 

Jesse chuckled. “Nah, I don’t mind. In that case, I’ll just follow y’all around. Imagine we’ll get to Angie eventually.”

 

“Angela is currently working in an active war zone,” Zenyatta said. “She will be due for required leave five months from now. In that time, I may be able to analyze what data I can, if you would allow it.”

 

“Oh, ‘course! Take a crack at it!” Jesse said. “Where’s she livin’ when she’s off the clock?”

 

Genji smirked. “Cairo.”

 

“The hell’s she doin’ in Cairo?”

 

“More like _who_ she’s doing in Cairo.”

 

“ _Who_ she’s – well that little devil!” Jesse laughed. “Figured they’d be in it for the long run, but I thought Fareeha wanted to move back to Canada.”

 

“She changed her plans when Angela threw a promise ring at her,” Genji said, “not to mention her promotion. She’s a lieutenant now.”

 

“Good for her!” Jesse sounded proud, but his face seemed…wistful.

 

“She misses you,” Genji said, and _oh, he understood that so deeply._

 

He waved it off. “Nah, she don’t need an outlaw tarnishin’ her reputation,” he said. “‘Sides, I bothered her enough when she was a littlun.”

 

Genji looked unimpressed. “You aren’t fooling anyone.”

 

“Look, I don’t need therapy right now,” Jesse said, “I just need this frappuchino and a new shirt.”

 

Zenyatta tossed a plastic bag at him, hitting him squarely in the stomach. “I took the liberty of picking out several for you. If they do not fit, we can always return them.”

 

“D’aww, you’re sweet.” Jesse tugged out the flannel shirt on top and tugged it on, snapping the tag off before buttoning it. “Thank you kindly.” Hanzo quietly mourned the loss of the view, but was mollified when he rolled the sleeves up to his elbows.

 

“You must be hungry,” Hanzo said, attempting to distract his thoughts with action. “If you feel up to it, there’s a diner around the corner.”

 

Jesse stood, smiling down at Hanzo with those warm, lovely eyes. “Darlin’, I’m always ready for a diner.”

 

_Oh, I am so fucked._

 

\-----

 

They left Tucson the next day, though they didn’t the States for another month to allow Jesse more time to heal. It wasn’t until the end of their stay, however, after weeks of dancing around each other, that he finally caught Hanzo alone.

 

Zenyatta had miraculously found a decent motel in a middle-of-nowhere town, with outdoor entry and no questions asked. Hanzo sat on the stairs leading to the second story with his beaten-up sketchbook, watching the storm creeping in across the horizon. The air felt thick, and he savored the tang of impending rain on his tongue.

 

“Hey there, darlin’.” Hanzo turned to see Jesse standing there, leaning casually against the railing. He was unarmed and bareheaded, his shaggy hair pulled back into a low, messy ponytail at the nape of his neck. “You got a second?”

 

Hanzo smiled and patted the stair next to him. “I could spare a few.”

 

Jesse strolled over in that slow way of his and sat, resting his elbows on his knees and gazing out at the brewing storm clouds. “Looks like it’s gonna be a doozy,” he said. “See that green? That mean’s hail’s comin’.”

 

“Country wisdom?”

 

“Morrison wisdom.” He flexed his metal fingers absentmindedly, as if by habit. “Pops grew up on a farm, same as me, but he was in a rainier area. Don’t get much rain in New Mexico.”

 

“You don’t sound like you’re from New Mexico,” Hanzo observed, setting his sketchbook aside.

 

“That’d be my birth parents’ fault,” Jesse said with a grin. “They were both from the deep South, n’ bein’ on a farm meant I didn’t get out much. Served me pretty well in Deadlock, though; it’s easier to sell stuff when you’re a sweet li’l kid with a buttery voice.”

 

Hanzo traced the inked lines on his wrist. “Genji told me that Reyes had gotten you from a gang.”

 

“That he did,” Jesse said. He hesitated, then gently took Hanzo’s forearm in his flesh hand, turning it to study the tattoo. “I used to have one o’ these,” he said quietly, “same arm as yours. I was thirteen when they did it.”

 

“I was newly eighteen,” Hanzo said. “Thirteen is far too young.” Jesse hummed, but added nothing else. Feeling suddenly bold, Hanzo slid his arm out of the other man’s loose grasp until their palms met before twining their fingers together. He felt rather than heard Jesse’s breath hitch, and he put aside the pounding of his own heart in favor of pressing his advantage.

 

“I find myself quite attracted to you, Jesse McCree,” he said. “Perhaps you could give me an idea of how to proceed.”

 

Jesse licked his lips, suddenly and adorably _nervous_. “Well,” he said, “that feelin’ is… _absolutely_ mutual, so if you wouldn’t mind, I would love to take you to dinner. Without your brother. Definitely without him.”

 

“I certainly wouldn’t argue with that.” He paused, then cautiously leaned into that bulky frame, finding it exactly as comfortable as he’d expected it to be.

 

“Honeybee,” Jesse asked, his voice ever so soft, “may I kiss you?”

 

Hanzo tilted his chin up to look at him. “You most certainly may.”

 

They didn’t move from the stairs until the storm hit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Writing Notes:**   
> 1) McCree decorated the alarm himself before giving it to Genji. Genji left his undecorated, so McCree drew dragons on it in glittery sharpie.   
> 2) Zenyatta did not originally have a gps-like function, but he downloaded one after he met Genji because that man has the directional abilities of a blind goldfish when it comes to actual roads.   
> 3) Soba is a goof, but a very resourceful goof. Also a probably a Hufflepuff, as she is a very good finder.   
> 4) The "have I ever steered you wrong" line comes from Cleo, the purple poodle in Clifford the Big Red Dog. I use it _frequently_.  
> 5) Genji's systems sometimes need a jumpstart if he's experienced some kind of trauma, such as getting in a fight or getting sick. Zenyatta discovered on accident that adrenaline shots do the trick. How? Beats me. I'm a curator, not a scientist.   
> 6) Hanzo hasn't quite gotten over the idea yet that Genji's friends don't actually hate him. That might take a while.   
> 7) Jesse was trained to prioritize whatever intel he was collecting over his own physical health in certain cases. While Gabriel definitely preferred him coming home in one piece, it was standard Blackwatch recon and intel collection training.   
> 8) I am a _massive_ lesbian, so I have no fuckin clue what some people find attractive in men. My sibling likes tall dudes, therefore Hanzo also likes tall dudes. Ta-da.   
> 9) Jesse is _terrified_. He's already had to face losing both of his dads on the same day, and now it turns out that one of them's alive, but brainwashed. Relating this information to a familiar, friendly, and sympathetic face is his breaking point.   
> 10) Fareeha and Angela aren't engaged yet, but they're getting close. One of the first things Fareeha and Jesse do once they reunite is go ring shopping - for both of them.   
> 11) We had some really nasty storms up where I live recently, and I've never seen greener clouds and sky.   
> 12) Jesse and Hanzo are both in their late thirties. Neither of them feel particularly inclined to drag things out anymore, so they just kinda...go for it. 
> 
> I'm rina-san28 on Tumblr! Come say hi! Also, feel free to tell me what you want to see in this series either in the comments or on Tumblr :)


	3. Of Returning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo was forgiven. Hanzo was loved. 
> 
> Can he step into the light again?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter! Woohoo! This entire fic clocks in at 51 pages in Microsoft Word. That is...a lot. 
> 
> Hanzo, McCree, Genji, and Zenyatta are honestly my favorite group of people to put together. Expect a lot more of them in the future! 
> 
> This starts approximately four-and-a-half months after the last chapter and ends...well, you'll see. Enjoy!

The house they were renting in Colorado was small, but comfortable, just big enough for the four of them. Hanzo reveled in the sunlight that shone through the large windows, loving how they brightened everything from the odd green carpet to his mood to his boyfriend, who behaved more like a lazy cat at times than a self-described “loyal dog”.

 

Today was one of those days. Genji was almost out of shirts, and after his and Zenyatta’s previous and calamitous gaffes with the washing machine, Hanzo had taken over the chore with an iron fist. He and Jesse were sorting out the clean laundry on their bed, occasionally fighting with the cat over possession of the warm clothes. It was quiet, domestic, and essentially everything Hanzo hadn’t known he’d wanted.

 

“Look, Weston,” Jesse said finally, scooping the cat up under his front legs, “you are adorable and you know it, but you’re also a damned furry menace.”

 

Said furry menace let out a plaintive _mrr-ow_ , somehow stretching out to three times the length he should logically have been.

 

“Nah, don’t give me that.” He shifted the cat to cradle him like a baby in his left arm, leaving his right free to continue sorting. “If you won’t listen to Papa, then Daddy’s not gonna let the dragons out.”

 

“The dragons are coming out no matter what,” Hanzo said, lifting an eyebrow at his boyfriend. “I am much more interested on how you plan on folding that shirt with one hand.”

 

Jesse made a face. “I can do it, honeybee, just watch!”

 

“Wait, let me get some popcorn.”

 

“Nope, show starts now.” He pulled one of Hanzo’s tees out of the basket and laid it out on the bed. What followed could only be described as one of the laziest folding jobs Hanzo had ever seen, second only to Genji’s pathetic attempt at folding a fitted sheet. Jesse spun the “folded” shirt for Hanzo’s inspection with jazz hands and a theatrical _“ta-da!”_.

 

“…Put Weston down,” Hanzo said tiredly, picking up the shirt and refolding it. “I could have done this three times over during that display.” He glanced up at his boyfriend’s disappointed pout, giving him a peck on the cheek to make up for his tone. “Chin up, cowman. The bed will be free when we finish.” The reminder spurred Jesse on, and the work was done quickly enough.

 

\-----

 

Colorado hadn’t been chosen by chance. It was home to one of the few supposedly-untouched Overwatch bases that remained, most having fallen prey to vandals, thieves, or government regulations. Watchpoint: Grand Mesa, however, was difficult to reach on foot or by car and only occupied by a small handful of security guards, making it their best choice for data-mining. After several weeks of careful scouting via Jesse’s old on-site haunts, their group had decided it was time to make a move.

 

Hanzo crept along beside Zenyatta, letting the two ex-Blackwatch agents take the lead. No two Watchpoints were laid out exactly the same, but Jesse had spent his first few year-and-a-half in the organization stationed there and knew its footprint by heart. There was a little-used door hidden in a dip in the cliff face just over 6 meters off the ground. It had taken Genji all of ten seconds to get them inside (“Why the _fuck_ didn’t they change the passcode?”), and Jesse led them through the dark and winding stone-lined corridors with ease.

 

“The private terminals are just through this door and to the left,” Jesse said finally. “Zen, you’ve got the breaker?”

 

“Indeed.”

 

“Then go get ‘em, champ. Be back here in ten.” The door slid open, and Zenyatta floated through and down the hall with Genji close behind, both of their lights powered down for stealth. Jesse then led Hanzo the opposite way, into the strike team’s quarters. “I left some stuff here, just in case,” he explained, his footsteps near-soundless in the silent corridor. “Never really thought I was ever gonna need it.” He stopped at a door identical to all of the others and patted it fondly. “This’un’s it. Now if I remember right…” Three well-placed kicks at the bottom left opened the door without a problem. “Nice li’l touch,” he said smugly.

 

“Not bad,” Hanzo commented, stepping down into the small room. A bare bed took up an entire wall, while across from it sat a desk and a thin bookshelf. Fading on the walls indicated where there had once been posters and photos. He walked further in and gazed out the window, his breath catching at the seemingly endless stars that dotted the Colorado skyline, the deep blueness of the night sky draped like a blanket over the craggy landscape.

 

“Beautiful, ain’t it?” Jesse came up behind him, wrapped his arms around his waist, and rested his chin on top of his head. “I used to wake up early and watch the sunrise if I didn’t have a mission to prep for. If my dads weren’t busy, we’d all meet out in the lounge – it’s got a picture window to die for.”

 

“You’ll have to bring me back sometime, then,” Hanzo murmured. He breathed in, allowing himself to enjoy the moment, then let it out. “Come, you said you had something to find.”

 

Jesse sighed. “Right as always, darlin’.” He drew back and crouched in front of the bookshelf, then laid flat on his stomach with a grunt. “Ugh, this was easier when I was younger.”

 

“You are thirty-seven.”

 

“Yeah, n’ I did this when I was nineteen, what’s your point?” Flicking open a compartment in his metal arm, he knocked out a knife and used it to pry away a piece of metal from the wall, its seams hidden by the edges of the bookshelf. From it he pulled a small wooden box and a ream of paper tied neatly with rainbow yarn. “Take these for a sec’, would you dear? I’ll explain ‘em at home.” Apparently satisfied, he closed everything back up and clambered back to his feet, pecking Hanzo on the lips and taking back the papers. They slipped out in short order, reaching the exit just as the other two did.

 

“I see they were still there,” Genji said, nodding at them.

 

“Yup,” Jesse said simply. “Got the files?”

 

Zenyatta help up the data stick. “There were no difficulties,” he confirmed. “We may now escape.”

 

“A’ight, let’s head out!” Jesse slid the hidden door back open and they slipped inside, all detection successfully avoided.

 

\-----

 

Jesse lay stretched out on their bed, papers strewn around him as he puffed moodily on his cigarillo. “I need four goddamn pieces of information,” he grumbled, “so I’ve gotta sort through four hundred pages of this shit to do it. The fuck did I think this was a good idea?”

 

“If you would tell me what you are looking for, I would be happy to help,” Hanzo said. He ran the laser pointer up the dresser, watching Weston, Udon, and Somen all skitter wildly after it.

 

Strangely enough, Jesse _blushed._ “Uh…I appreciate it, but I don’t think so, doll. This is some real-”

 

“It’s your diary, isn’t it?”

 

“…Not entirely.” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I used to write mission reports, but I’d do two versions. One I handed in, and the other-” he hefted up a stack of papers, “-was a tad more colorful. I wrote down everythin’, n’ not all of it was just mission-based.”

 

“So it’s your diary.”

 

Jesse made to protest again, then sighed. “Yeah, Han, it’s my diary.”

 

Hanzo set the laser pointer on the nightstand – to the plaintive whining of the three musketeers – and picked up a stapled set of papers. They were written in pen, gel pen at that, and the handwriting was a much more unintelligible version of Jesse’s lazy scrawl. “Please tell me you typed your real reports.”

 

“I did, don’t you worry,” Jesse said, exchanging one report for another. “Just didn’t want the record of a second on the computers, y’know? Security n’ all that.”

 

_Jefe, Morgan, and MacDrummon went right into the hornet’s nest and slam-dunked those sons-o-bitches into the Shadow Realm-_

 

“How old were you when you wrote this one?” Hanzo asked, raising an eyebrow as he continued to scan the page.

 

“Prolly eighteen or nineteen. What’s the title?”

 

His eyebrow climbed up further. “ _Jesse Reyes and the Magic Crayon._ ”

 

“Oh, I was twenty-two.”

 

Hanzo snorted. “Perfect. Now what am I looking for?”

 

“There are four times that I can remember talkin’ with my dad on missions about the SEP shit he went through,” Jesse said. He lifted a report that had been lovingly set aside an hour before. “I found one, so there should be three left. It’ll say ‘SEP’ somewhere in the story, so keep an eye out for that acronym.”

 

They worked together in silence, only broken by an occasional snort of amusement at Jesse’s creative recording of events or the thuds coming from the cat and dragons causing mischief nearby. Hanzo’s skimming turned fairly quickly to actual reading as the papers provided a view into his boyfriend’s life he hadn’t had before. There was the heartfelt ( _Høster showed me a photo of his daughter. Pretty little thing, looks just like her mother. He said that she takes after her too – Stine showed off her artistic side last week when she drew an abstract rendition of the family dog on the bathroom wall._ ), the depressing ( _Oduya was shot during the main push. Jefe and O’Deorain checked her out while the rest of us waited, but they came back with slumped shoulders, blood-covered shirts, and a headshake._ ), and, of course, the absurd ( _Genji and I decided to make a charge of our own. We made up for the missing leg by settling him on my back and giving him one of my pistols. The enemy seemed confused, but I’d say it was pretty effective._ ). They were nearing the three-hour mark when he stumbled across something intriguing in one of Jesse’s earliest reports.

 

_The Strike Commander didn’t seem too happy about us leaving. I brought it up to Jefe later and he sighed real heavy, then told me that it was the anniversary of when they got engaged, way back in their military days. Turns out that Jefe wasn’t taking the SEP injections too well and they didn’t think he was gonna make it. There was one really rough round, and Jack wouldn’t leave his side the entire time. Somewhere in all of it, he told Jefe that if he pulled through, he’d marry him. “That was a pretty promise I just couldn’t pass up,” Jefe told me. They got hitched in an Indiana courthouse on their next leave. I got curious and asked him if he knew how close he got to dying. “Well…that’s classified to everybody except for the docs, but it’s probably somewhere in my SEP medical files.” He laughed. “Jackie and I don’t even know what our medical records look like anymore.”_

 

“Jesse, I found one.” Jesse perked up and leaned over, resting his chin on Hanzo’s shoulder has he read the indicated passage.

 

“Yeah, I remember that one.” He chuckled, but the sound was subdued. “Both of us got pretty roughed up on that mission. First time I called him Papa, actually.”

 

Hanzo looked at the paper, considering. “I think we’re going to need a very skilled hacker.”

 

“A good one can be hard to find. Fortunately,” Jesse said, “I know a guy.”

 

\-----

 

Jesse lounged on the sofa, Weston in his lap. The hacker he’d contacted had arranged to meet them at the house, much to Genji’s dismay. _“They’ll find us either way,”_ Jesse had said. _“Don’t worry yourself about it.”_ However un-reassuring that was, there was no time to change it.

 

The clock read 10:02.

 

“They are late,” Hanzo said.

 

“Fashionably late.” He whipped around at the unfamiliar voice from behind. As he watched, a young woman materialized in the living room, cybernetic implants visible across her skin, hair and clothes all perfectly coordinated shades of purple. “ _Hola_ , Jesse,” she said. “Long time, no see.”

 

“I’m sure you saw me plenty,” Jesse said, lazily scratching Weston’s ears. “I thought you were gonna go red for a bit.”

 

The woman shrugged. “You missed it.” She looked around, taking in all of them in turn. “Care to introduce me?”

 

“O’ course,” he said. “The omnic there is Tekhartha Zenyatta of the Shambali, and next to him is his husband, Shimada Genji. The fella you scared the shit out of is my partner, Shimada Hanzo, and this fella here is Weston. Gentlemen,” he waved a hand, “Olivia Colomar, also known as the Sombra Collective. Just call her Sombra and she probably won’t kill you.”

 

“Hey!” she said, “I didn’t say give away all my secrets!”

 

Jesse raised an eyebrow at her. “One of the men in this room is supposed to be dead,” he pointed out, “another’s got several hits out on him, and the last two are on the run from several world governments. I figured it was fair.”

 

Sombra stared, then shrugged. “Eh, I’ll let it slide. You said you needed a hacker – give me the deets.”

 

Jesse scooped up Weston and handed him to Hanzo, then picked up the manila folder of transcripts. “This here is information we have about the United States’ military’s Soldier Enhancement Program,” he said. “We have evidence that whatever chemicals got pumped into these folks had some…undesirable effects. These effects resulted in some serious problems for one specific individual. All we want are his medical files.”

 

“You want me to hack the U.S. military for one guy?” Sombra asked.

 

“Yup.”

 

She cocked her head, mulling it over, then nodded. “I’ll do it. But I want something in return.”

 

“If you want money, we can get you-” Hanzo began, but she shook her head.

 

“No, I don’t need to worry about money.” She shot him a charming smile with an edge of viciousness. “I just want a little help from my friends. _¿Entender?”_

 

“What can we do for you, then, my friend?” Zenyatta asked calmly. “I am certain that, between the four-” Weston mewed, “-five of us, we will have what you need.”

 

“ _Gracias,_ Master Zenyatta,” Sombra said, “but my request is more for Jesse.” She waved a hand, opening up a computer in the air in front of her. “I need information on Elizabeth Caledonia Ashe of the Deadlock Gang. She has been too quiet recently. Your request takes up the time I would spend hunting her down, so you get to do the dirty work. Are you up to it, _vanquero_?”

 

“Always up to a bit of fun,” Jesse said, but Hanzo could read the tension in the corners of his eyes.

 

Sombra nodded. “Good. Now whose files am I looking for?”

 

“Gabriel Reyes,” Genji answered, “SEP program candidate number twenty-four.”

 

Unexpectedly, Sombra froze. “Jesse,” she said slowly, “Gabriel Reyes died in Geneva. You know that.”

 

“He’s alive, Liv,” Jesse said. “He’s alive, and we’re gonna bring him home.”

 

For a long moment, the young women studied him, searching for something. When she was satisfied, she held out a hand to shake. “I’ll be back in one week,” she said. “We’ll do the trade then.”

 

Jesse shook the hand with a grin. “You’ve got it.” As soon as he let go, she vanished.

 

The room was silent for one beat, two, three…

 

“What the _fuck_ was that?” Genji asked.

 

Jesse shrugged, took Weston back, and dropped a kiss on Hanzo’s cheek. “You’ll get used to her eventually.”

 

\-----

 

As luck would have it, Ashe was planning a train hit less than a day’s drive from where they were staying. Jesse was more than happy to leave it at that and report back to Sombra…until he read the train’s contents.

 

“Goddammit,” he muttered, slamming his laptop closed. “Boys, I’m takin’ a road trip to New Mexico and none of y’all’re invited.”

 

Genji looked up from his DS. “What if I said that going to New Mexico was my one dream in life?”

 

“Then I would tell you that you’re full of shit, ‘cause we stayed there for three months back in Blackwatch and you told me you’d rather, and I quote, ‘die for real then step one foot back in those borders,’ unquote.”

 

“People change!”

 

“But my mind isn’t,” Jesse said. “I’m headin’ out first thing in the mornin’.”

 

“Why?” Zenyatta asked. “Just yesterday you were content to let her take the train.”

 

Jesse sighed. “Genji,” he said, “you remember Echo?”

 

“Of course I remember – oh, no.” Genji frowned. “She’s on the train?”

 

“Yup.” He pulled a small white chip out of a compartment on his arm. “I still have one of her ports, but her frame’s bein’ shipped. One of the old guard probably called her up. I need to get to her before Ashe does.”

 

Hanzo bit his lip, but understood. “Come, _anata_ – I’ll help you pack.”

 

\-----

 

“Who is Echo?”

 

Jesse smiled as he tossed handful of socks into his duffel bag. “She’s an omnic Winston programmed,” he said. “Real sweet little thing. Didn’t know what happened to her after Overwatch got shut down, but I’m willin’ to bet Winston tracked her down and requested her. Either way, she’s on that train, and I can’t let Ashe get her.”

 

“I understand.” Hanzo pulled a plain brown shirt of Jesse’s from the closet, carefully folding it before packing it away. He paused, then took his partner’s hand. “Are you sure I can’t come with you?”

 

“Ashe isn’t the kinda company you wanna be messin’ with, honeybee,” Jesse said gently. He lifted Hanzo’s chin up for a kiss. “I can handle her, don’t you worry. I’ll be right back in your arms this time on Thursday.” He kissed him again, and again, all packing forgotten. Hanzo was more than willing to let it happen, he didn’t want him to leave anyway-

 

_Beeeeeeeep. Beeeeeeeep. Beeeeeeeep._

 

They broke apart. “What the hell is that?” Hanzo asked as Jesse dove for his bag. He opened the bedroom door, only to hear another, identical beeping coming from Genji and Zenyatta’s movie night love-nest on the sofa.

 

“It’s my Overwatch beacon.” Jesse stood up, holding a small tablet in his hands.

 

“You both kept them?”

 

“It was the easiest way to keep in contact with my dads.” He locked eyes with Genji. “Should we pick up?”

 

After a silent conversation, they answered simultaneously.

 

_“Hmm…is this on?”_

 

Hanzo blinked. “Is that…a gorilla?”

 

“He’s a scientist, _anija,_ be polite,” Genji scolded distractedly.

 

The…scientist – Winston, he supposed – cleared his throat. _“Thirty years ago, the omnics declared war.”_ As he continued his speech, photographs from the Omnic Crisis and the golden years of Overwatch slid across the screen. _“You joined!”_ he said, appearing to lose his momentum. _“Because you…you already know this.”_

 

“C’mon, big guy,” Jesse murmured, absentmindedly resting his chin on Hanzo’s head. “C’mon, you can do it.”

 

Winston continued. _“Look…the people decided they were better off without us. They even called us criminals! They tore our family apart.”_ Genji made a small, wounded noise, reaching out as if to touch his old friend. _“But look around!”_ More photos, of Russia, of Egypt, of London, and Winston spoke with the fire and confidence of a leader. _“The world needs us now, more than ever!”_ he said. He took off his glasses, and Hanzo felt his gaze in his soul.

 

_“Are you with me?”_

 

The camera flickered off, and in the black screen Hanzo could see his and Jesse’s reflections, standing side by side, entwined in one another.

 

Genji looked up, tears streaming down his cheeks. “Jesse,” he said, “we have to go back.”

 

\-----

 

They didn’t discuss the call any further until Jesse came back home. Echo followed him in, all smooth lines and soft voice, and Hanzo got the impression that she had been a well-loved member of the team. Dinner that night was tense until finally, _finally,_ Zenyatta spoke up.

 

“We must make arrangements to travel to Gibraltar,” he said. “There is much to do, and the sooner we begin, the sooner we can leave.”

 

“Hey, now,” Jesse said, “who said we were actually gonna go for sure?”

 

“They’re our family, McCree!” Genji snapped. “How can you look at those photos and not see our family?”

 

“Ma is dead,” Jesse snapped back, “Dad is dead, Papa is brainwashed, and Fareeha’s all tied up in the Egyptian military! Who’s gonna go back?”

 

“I bet Lena got there in five minutes,” Genji said. “I wrote Angela yesterday and she’s heading to Gibraltar next week. There is no way in hell that Reinhardt won’t go back, and if he goes then so will Torbjörn. Sojourn, Mirembe-”

 

“Okay, I get it! I get it.” Jesse slumped, dropping his head in his hands. “I’m sorry.”

 

“What’s going on, _anata_ , talk us through,” Hanzo said, running a soothing hand down his back.

 

“…What goddamn value do I have to give?” Jesse said finally. “I’ve got a bounty on my head and Talon on my tail, and that’s the last thing a baby Overwatch needs right now.”

 

“In case you had forgotten,” Zenyatta said mildly, “you are an expert at intel collection and undercover work. You are also very strong, skilled with a wide variety of weaponry and hand-to-hand combat, and empathetic to a fault.”

 

“And,” Genji added, “in case you’d forgotten, you currently hold a piece of information that the new Overwatch would be delighted to have.”

 

Jesse met Hanzo’s searching gaze. “What do you think, darlin’?” he asked, voice soft and nervous. “A rock full o’ strange people, doin’ illegal activities in the name of the righteous. Think you can handle it?”

 

Hanzo raised an eyebrow at him. “If I’d wanted the perfect life, I would have married the pastor’s daughter I met when I was twenty,” he deadpanned, and Genji choked on a mouthful of water. “Of course I’ll come with you.”

 

“Delightful!” Zenyatta rubbed his hands together. “I will speak to the landlord in the morning, we will do the data trade with Sombra in the evening, and with luck on our side we will be in Europe by next Wednesday.”

 

“Should we call ahead?” Genji asked.

 

“On Saturday morning,” Jesse said. “Time zones, plus it’ll give us a chance to sort ourselves out.”

 

“Consider it done.”

 

“It’s only Thursday, brother, don’t get ahead of yourself,” Hanzo said dryly.

 

“You little bitch.”

 

_fin._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Writing Notes:**   
> 1) Weston is a real cat who was available for adoption when I began writing this chapter three weeks ago. He has been adopted! Please note that many of the pets I will write into this series are real, adoptable pets, so watch this space :)  
> 2) I watched my dad try and fold a shirt one-handed because he was holding the family cat. The results were just as disappointing, but my mum was more amused than anything.   
> 3) For some reason, Hanzo referring to Jesse as "cowman" is _hilarious_ to me.   
> 4) The rainbow yarn tying Jesse's papers together was stolen from one of Gabriel's knitting projects. Jesse ended up getting the resulting afgan for Christmas.   
> 5) The title of Jesse's unofficial mission report/diary entry is a reference to _Harold and the Purple Crayon_ , which was one of my favorite books as a kid.   
> 6) Jesse mentally stores every little detail that he thinks may be important, which is part of what makes him great for recon and intel work. Exactly what the information was, however, fades over time, hence him breaking into a shut down and guarded Watchpoint to retrieve his old diary from his late teens through his late twenties.   
> 7) Note that, in Jesse's retelling of the conversation between him and Gabriel, he's referring to Gabe and Jack by titles rather than "Papa" and "Dad". The entry is from much earlier in Jesse's Blackwatch career (I'm thinking just after he turned 18), and though his dads did adopt him pretty much immediately after he was lifted from Deadlock at 17, he wasn't quite comfortable enough with them yet to give them the familial titles. As Jesse notes, however, he warmed up to them very quickly.   
> 8) This fic is also after the _Reflection_ comic, where we see Jesse passed out at a bar with Sombra nearby. I like to think that they're buddies.   
> 9) Sombra had her suspicions about Reaper's identity prior to this, but once she retrieves his medical files for the crew, she's certain of it. ("Can I call you 'Gabe'?")   
> 10) We still don't know too much about Echo, and since Papa Jeff has hinted that we're getting more on her in the future, I elected to leave her character more vague.   
> 11) It's clear in _Reunion_ that Jesse has received the Recall, but is uncertain about it. To me, that behavior makes the most sense if he's just gotten it and has not yet had time to think it through, because the one thing that Jesse McCree is, is loyal.   
> 12) I didn't want to fully type out the opening cinematic, but I also didn't want to have a fade-to-black because it just felt lazy. This also gave me a chance to have Hanzo realizing for the first time that Winston is literally a hyper-intelligent gorilla scientist from the moon.   
> 13) Give! Jesse! McCree! Validation!   
> 14) I did have a scene in a previous draft where Sombra comes back to trade the information, but it just felt redundant, so I cut it. 
> 
> And there we go! I do have another two- to three-parter planned for the Big Event, if you will. I'll get cracking on that shortly. 
> 
> I'm rina-san28 on Tumblr! Come say hi!


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